The Lady Midnight
by snow1010
Summary: *if you have not read the Clockwork trilogy or the Mortal Instruments series, there will be major spoilers* After the events of the Dark War, the Fair Folk unleash their secret weapon, Lady Midnight, on the unsuspecting Shadowhunters. But Lady Midnight may not be willing to be their weapon of vengeance.
1. Prologue

Prologue

December 2007.

The throne room was as cold as a freezer. Kaelie Whitewillow's breath puffed from her lips in hazy white clouds as she slowly made her way closer to the throne. Snow twirled down like little ballerinas, sprinkling the winding plants with white powder. A shiver hovered underneath her skin. The tendrils of the vining plants looked like they were reaching for her, ready to trap her in a thorny embrace.

She tried not to shake in fear as she knelt in the snow. It soaked through her thin dress, sticking to her skin.

"Now, what news do you bring me of the Nephilim?"

She felt the Seelie Queen's power grazing her skin, like rays from a wayward sun. In front of her downcast eyes, a pair of ivory feet descended into the snow, walking slowly and carefully towards her.

"They… They.."

Kaelie couldn't form the words. Her disbelief at their cruelty towards her people blocked the words from escaping. _How could they do this? How will we survive_?

"Speak, girl, or I will make you."

"They have decreed that because of our siding with Jonathan Morgenstern, that we are not allowed to bear arms, and we must rebuild all that we have destroyed, parts of Alicante, the Praetor Lupus, the broken wards with our own riches."

The pair of ivory feet stilled in front of her. Kaelie toppled over, sliding in the snow when the Seelie Queen kicked her away from her in disgust. The Queen mounted the dais and sat back in her throne. Kaelie studied her Queen's luminous face, looking for any emotion flickering in her jewel-like eyes. But the ruler of the Seelie Court was expressionless.

"You are not surprised by this news, your Majesty?" she squeaked, pushing herself back in her kneeling position.

"Oh, you may rise, Kaelie Whitewillow. Stop groveling in the snow. And no, I am not surprised. When you are as old as I am, you forget the feeling completely. Do you think I did not prepare for the chance that Jonathan Morgenstern would fail? I am not stupid, girl."

Brushing off the snow from her dress, she pushed herself up. She felt the pulsing warmth of her blood beading from the scraps on her legs and side. Bright green rivulets twined down her calves, splattering the snow. Her all-blue eyes were wide with reverence.

"I need you to send a letter to the King of the Unseelie Court."

Kaelie sucked in a breath. "But you and the King are-"

"Don't question me, girl. Now, tell him it is time to wake her."

"Wake who, Your Majesty?"

"Lady Midnight. Oh, I am so excited for the Shadowhunters to encounter her. They will scramble like confused ants when they realize what a threat she is. She will be the ruin of the Nephilim, once and for all."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

2012 – New York

The Pandemonium Club pulsed like a human heart, the bass booming underneath her feet, the strobe lights flickering non-stop. Nobody noticed her, leaning casually against a condensation-slick wall, letting the music thud against her back.

Humans danced with Downworlders, not knowing the people they were dancing with were very different, very alien from them. Luckily, she was wearing a Downworlder face, a non-descript female werewolf. Long brown hair, darkly eyelined eyes, dark eyes that flashed yellow-green when the light hit them just right. To a human, she would like any other typical white girl. Nothing really that special. It was the perfect disguise.

She has had too many names to count and remember. The Queen had drilled into her to make identities on the spot, names, backgrounds, friends, family. They were hard to forget those lessons. The whip marks ached in reminder, even though she wore a different skin where they were absent. But the name, more like title, that seemed to suit her was Lady Midnight. That was what the fey had called her. She didn't recall why.

She stuffed a hand into her jacket, pulling out a scrap of paper. It was a crumpled picture, with a name beside it. A young woman with dark skin, and slightly curling hair with gold tints. Maia Roberts, the leader of the New York wolf pack.

The Queen had handed to her this morning and shooed her away with a flick of a hand. She had not said that she wanted the alpha dead, injured, or that she wanted Lady Midnight to take her face.

But, whatever caused the most chaos in the Shadow World, the better. The girl being dead would be a great shock. But they would eventually move on. It would be better to take her face, and to do something terribly shocking.

She quickly walked into the bathroom, curling a lip at the slightly wet floors and flickering fluorescent panels that lit the room. Was it ever a pig sty. Checking to see there was no one in the stalls, she looked to the mirror. Taking in a deep breath, she focused on the photo. She imagined the connection as a gold thread, as she pulled closer and closer to her goal, she felt the Change coming over her, her skin tingling, like pins and needles continuously poking at her. When she opened her eyes, the same young woman in the picture looked back.

Lady Midnight felt the young woman's thoughts and personality starting to float to her. She caught a memory of a beautiful young man that looked like Maia laughing brightly, as he tore the wings off of a butterfly. The dying gasp of an old flame. And the warm eyes of her mate, Bat.

She seemed like a nice person. Guilt nipped slightly at her as she curled her new hair behind her ear. But nothing could be done. This was her purpose. She had no choice.

She barged out of the bathroom, and eased herself into the crowd. Immediately, bodies pressed against her rubbing and sliding. She tried to suppress a shudder. She hated people that got too close to her. She valued her personal space.

A human boy attached himself onto her, hands sliding around her torso to grasp her hips, rocking their bodies together. Her werewolf nose smelled the pureness of human, not corrupted by the musk of wolf or the odourlessness of vampires. No angel or demon blood. Perfectly human.

The bracelet on her wrist winked at her, a bright gold flash in the constant strobe lighting. A Shadowhunter was here. Lady Midnight smiled, prompting the boy to pull her even closer. She turned, letting the boy press her body against hers. His heart beat hammered underneath his skin. The desire coming off him was stinging her nose. She almost wanted to gag on it.

"Come on! Let's go somewhere private!" she yelled in his ear. He nodded eagerly and grasped her hand, his skin slick with sweat. She quickly looked over her shoulder. Yes, the Shadowhunter was there. A young man with longish brown hair, glasses, looking at her with wide eyes. Simon Lewis, Lady Midnight remembered. Her bracelet pulsed again. A beautiful, black haired, dark eyed woman appeared next to him. None other than Isabelle Lightwood. Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

Throwing them a smile, she followed the human boy out of the crowd, out of the club, and out into the alley. He pinned her against the bricks, lips going to her throat. Lady Midnight cast her eyes up to the hazy night sky. Hopefully they would come out soon so they would see.

She curled a hand around his neck, winding the hairs around her fingers. Her nails lengthened into claws, and she felt the pressure of her teeth lengthening into canines. _It had to be now_.

Just on cue, Isabelle and Simon burst out into the alley, just as she pushed the human away and with one movement, slashed his throat with her claws. He dropped to the ground, clutching his throat as dark blood bubbled between fingers, gurgling as he choked. Soon enough his heart stopped beating.

She looked to the Shadowhunters, standing there in shock. A seraph blade blazed into being in Simon's hand, but the way he held it told her he was very hesitant. Lady Midnight bared Maia's fangs at them, a low growl rippling from her throat. The human's blood dripped slowly from her hand, she flicked some drops of it off in annoyance.

Something gold wrapped around her leg, pulling her feet from under her. Her breath was wrenched from her lungs as her side collided with the uneven pavement.

"What are you doing Maia? You know we have to kill you now. You broke the Law." Isabelle's voice cracked under emotion.

"You Nephilim and your Law," she hissed. "You won't have time to worry about your little Law when it comes. You will all scramble like the ants you are in such panic until it is too late."

They weren't her own words. The Queen had ranted over and over at her, whenever she rebelled in some slight way. The rants were only useful that way, to plagiarize them in a dramatic declaration in a situation like this.

Isabelle's whip slackened against her ankle, allowing her to crouch in front of the two Shadowhunters. Their Marks stood out like brands against their skin, shouting in her face that they were different, better.

With a growl, she slashed at both of them, feeling the tearing of flesh under her claws and the reward of blood beading. They both jerked out in surprise and pain. With them distracted, Lady Midnight bolted out from the alley, wearing Maia Roberts's feral and blood splattered face. She ran and ran, until her legs jellied and her chest hurt too much to breath. Making sure there was no one in sight, she found the entrance to Faerie, a small pond. Without another thought, she jumped in, letting the cold water to embrace her.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Isabelle marched into the Institute, throwing aside her weapons belt and whip. Without another word to Simon, she ran upstairs. A slam of her door made Simon flinch. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. As much as he wanted to do the same thing, he knew he had to tell someone.

He still couldn't understand what had compelled Maia to become completely unhinged. Her glowing yellow eyes floated across his vision, the utter viciousness in her gaze striking Simon right in the chest. The way the mundane's blood had been on her claws and hand like a scarlet glove and the droplets splattered against her dusky skin. How? Why?

On their silent way home, Simon attempted to call Maia at the pack headquarters, the bookstore. But one of the other wolves had answered, only saying that she wasn't at the store and had no clue where she was. He had tried calling Bat, but he was tied up with the Praetor Lupus. Maia never picked up her phone either. How could he tell the others what had happened? That one of their closest friends had gone off the wall and actually killed an innocent.

A familiar red head peered into the foyer, green eyes sparking. "Hey, Simon, how was the night on the town?" Clary asked, her smile mischievous. Soon after, Jace appeared behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, his gold eyes curious.

As she took in Simon's drawn, pale features, Clary broke from Jace, grabbing Simon's hands. "Simon, what's wrong? Where's Isabelle?"

"She's in her room."

"Yeah, I heard. It was like a herd of elephants up there," Jace quipped.

Simon gave him a level look.

"We went to Pandemonium, to see if there was anything going on there, since it's a popular demon haunt. But what we found there was more alarming."

"What?" Jace asked impatiently. "Don't keep us hanging."

"Jace," Clary scolded, pinching his arm lightly. "Let Simon talk."

The affectionate smile that Jace directed towards his best friend made his heart warm a little. He let out a breath. "Well-"

"Maia killed a human that she lured out of the Pandemonium Club."

The three of them looked up to see Isabelle, leaning against the banister of the stairs. Her dark makeup was smudged, as if she had been rubbing at her eyes. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot and shining.

Clary gasped. Jace looked down at his shoes, his body going completely still.

"And I called the bookstore, Bat, even tried to get a hold of Maia. Nobody knew where she was."

"It's obvious that Maia's bloodlust has taken over her. It will just get worse from there. She'll go completely mad. She has to be put down," Isabelle said levelly. Simon searched her face. Besides the glimmer in her eye, her face was blank of any emotion. He could sense that icy distance that she was creating. _Oh Isabelle_.

"But this was out of nowhere?" Clary asked.

"Yes, last time we saw her, she was happy, maybe a little stressed with Praetor business, but still Maia. Wouldn't she be showing signs of bloodlust?"

Jace frowned slightly in thought. Then his eyes flashed up, blazing brightly. "Listen, we are keeping this to ourselves. This needs serious investigation. No call to the Clave or Conclave. Just us in the Institute. Only if it escalates or moves locations will we get help. Got it?"

They all nodded. _Was another threat coming already? There was the Mortal War, then the Dark War. Would there be another one?_ Clary fretted. She may have been fairly new to the Shadow World, but she had experienced more large wars than most Shadowhunters in a lifetime. Simon too, even though he wasn't a Shadowhunter then. Did there really need to be another one? After 5 years of relative peace?

Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. Something bigger than the threat of Valentine or Sebastian.

Lady Midnight shook off Maia Roberts with a quick shake of her head, letting it melt into the face that she had been wearing lately. Dark hair that fell in perfect waves, framing a light brown face, with pronounced cheekbones, a full mouth, and eyes dark as the night sky. She felt that this face suited the Lady Midnight persona better.

The Seelie Queen waited on her throne, a picture of faerie perfection. Deep blue flowers were braided into a crown, delicately sitting on her scarlet curls.

Lady Midnight knelt at the bottom of the dais, head bowed. She felt the Seelie Queen's gaze on her like a physical touch.

"Rise," she said in a bored voice, "Now what news do you have for me, my dear Lady Midnight."

"I used the Maia Roberts identity to fool the Nephilim into thinking their friend had gone mad with bloodlust," she stated. The geyser of blood that had spurt out of that human's slashed throat flashed in front of her eyes. "As Maia, I killed a human. To make it convincing." She shrugged.

The Queen laughed, delighted. "Yes, what a great distraction. Those impetuous New York Nephilim will be too tangled in their own problems to see what is truly happening." She laughed again.

"Do you have any further requests, Your Majesty?" Some of Midnight's anger leaked through her words.

The Queen narrowed her crystal-like eyes. "Ah, no, not at the moment. You may rest now, my dear weapon."

With another bow, Midnight left the throne room, finding the Three Doors. Her feet knew the way. She eyed the other tunnels. She knew one actually led to the demon realms. That was where Jonathan Morgenstern had hid himself and his Dark Shadowhunters away from the Clave's eyes. Until Clary Morgenstern, Jace Herondale, the Lightwoods and Simon Lewis decided to journey there and stop him when they were teenagers.

Midnight wasn't surprised. In Downworld, the New York Institute Shadowhunters were rumoured to be the best of the best. She believed that to a degree. If they were truly the best, they would have seen through her guise. But they believed that their friend went bloodthirsty wholeheartedly. So much for being the best.

Around her, the tunnel was veined with roots, all of them strange metallic colours. Silver, gold and bronze roots braided together, bright blade-like thorns sticking out from their vines. She knew the hard way that if you touched the thorns, you were likely to bleed out where you stood.

The tunnel opened up, letting it rays of decadent gold sunlight. A rolling green-gold valley unrolled before Midnight, dotted with houses built from vines, flowers, roots and tree bark. Midnight didn't really know why they refused to have houses made of stone. How could their houses protect them if they were as strong as a new grown flower bending over in the wind?

But that wasn't her problem. No one in Faerie dared to attack her, in fear of retribution of both the Unseelie King and Seelie Queen. Despite their agreement on the importance of Lady Midnight, the Queen had insisted on harbouring their dear weapon under her protection. The King had reluctantly agreed.

When she reached the house that she shared with Kaelie, she sighed, feeling the tension of the day leave her body. Finally, she could have some time to herself. With Kaelie being a representative on the Council, she was away often, leaving the house empty for Midnight's enjoyment.

You wouldn't be able to tell that the house was made of all living flora when you entered it. There were strong glamours at work. Midnight could see them hovering over the walls like heat mirages. As she stormed through the room, she started to shed clothes, until she stood in the room barefoot and only in her bra and jeans. Plucking the bloodstained shirt off the floor, she flicked into the fireplace. It was quickly consumed by a silver flame. A sort of relief flooded her. As long as she couldn't see it, she couldn't be reminded of what she did.

Once she entered the bathroom, she kicked off the rest of her clothes and jumped into the bath, which had magically filled with steaming water.

As soon as she entered the water, some of the blood floated off in murky red trails, twisting and turning like snakes through grass. Midnight sighed. God, did it ever feel good.

A creak made her stiffen. It had echoed through the house, making it loud as thunder. Leaning out of the tub, Midnight grabbed the dagger hidden in her clothes and grasped it.

A handsome faerie knight entered the room. His tunic pulled tightly at his shoulders and chest, revealing his strength. His mahogany hair was pulled back in a ponytail, emphasizing the delicate yet strong structure of his face. His eyes were slightly curved, his pupils the colour of tree bark after a hard rain. His name was Orin.

Midnight grasped the dagger tighter in her hand, despite that the grip was slipping against her dripping wet hand. Whenever she saw him, she felt the prickle of recognition down her spine, but she could never remember where she had seen him before. A lot of her memories seemed lost to her.

"Oh, you need not treat me with hostility," he admonished, eyes wide with innocence.

Lady Midnight glared. "Get out, Orin. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Hmm." His eyes skimmed her slick arms resting on the lip of the tub. The rest of her body was hidden from his eyes. He watched amused as the blade of her dagger shook slightly.

Orin approached quickly, kneeling in front of her, even though the dagger hovered inches from his throat. He stared deeply into her dark eyes. His hand cupped her cheek, rubbing the wet skin with his thumb.

"You know you would be more beautiful if you showed your true face," he whispered.

Midnight couldn't help but shiver at his intimate tone. She wanted to scrabble in a dark corner so badly, to curl herself so small that no one would bother to notice her. She dug her nails into her palm. No, she would not think like that. Orin was just another male faerie looking to seduce some unknowing maiden.

"I will never show my true face to you," she hissed, shoving away his hand.

Orin rose, his handsome face blank. "We'll see."

He turned to leave. He paused at the bathroom door. "Oh, and the King and Queen want to see you tomorrow morning. It seems they have another mission for you."

With that, he left with a flash of dark cloak.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next morning, there were two thrones in the Seelie Court throne room. They were both mirrors of each other, one black with bright red flowers climbing up the back and arms, and one white with blue flowers as vivid as the day sky.

Midnight knelt to the ground, letting the little vines wrap around her bare toes, the leaves ticking the bottoms of her feet. The royals of the Courts would not be at all happy if they arrived and found her not kneeling. Last time she did that, they decided that she would be whipped and let some of the Unseelie faeries feed on her blood.

Luckily, the disgusting creatures died once her blood got into their system, convulsing until their own green blood flooded from their orifices. She had been so riddled with pain that she had started to laugh as they choked and gurgled to their deaths.

There were a lot of deaths that she regretted. But those Unseelie faeries, she didn't.

The shush of cloaks brushing against leaves alerted her to the King and Queen's presence. They mounted the dais and seated themselves in their thrones, the King in the black and the Queen in the white.

"Rise, Lady Midnight," the King intoned. His voice was deep and rumbling, sending chills racing along her skin.

She did as he bid, lifting her chin. The King leaned his chin on an open palm, his all black eyes studying her. His white hair fell in a straight river, with little braids with black beads framing his long, angular face.

"We need you to retrieve something," the Queen said, tossing her scarlet hair over a shoulder. She leaned forward, a dark smile pulling at her lips.

"We believe it to be one of the Shadowhunter Institutes. It's a jewel necklace, a pair of them with a crown as well. They used to belong to the Fair Folk," the King continued, inspecting his razor sharp nails.

"And what do this jewelry do?"

"Oh, it enhances the power of the wearer, of course. They're for you."

Midnight frowned a little. "How will I know what Institute is hiding these things?"

"You will have to look through the New York Institute. They will have the information. Here is a picture."

The King held out a slip of paper. Making sure not to make direct eye contact, Lady Midnight ascended the dais, taking the offered paper. His hand wrapped around her wrist. He tugged her even closer, so she knelt at his legs, his knees pressing into her chest. "It is most important that you retrieve this, my dear Lady Midnight," the King whispered. He cupped her cheek and kissed Midnight on the lips, claiming her lips for his own.

The Queen chuckled as Midnight froze. She couldn't refuse him, he was the King, but she really wanted to push away from him, to cut him with her dagger until he bled out into the vining plants in the ground. The King slipped his tongue between her lips, making her shudder in disgust. It was so perverse. She couldn't understand how lovers kissed like this. It was so disgusting. How could it feel pleasurable?

The King pulled away, smiling secretively. "Go now, Lady Midnight. Return soon."

The words sounded like a promise. Gritting her teeth, she left the throne room, leaving Faerie and let the mortal world engulf her with its constant sounds. She wiped her mouth against her hand, trying to rid the sickly sweet taste of the King from her tongue.

Spitting on the ground, she Changed, into an ordinary man, one that would blend in into the crowd easily. Her baggy clothes filled and tightened as her shoulders broadened, her legs grew longer, her arms thicker. Since she shape-changed so often, Midnight took to wearing really baggy clothes, so that it could fit any person relatively well, male or female.

Wearing a man's shape was very different. It was strange feeling the swing of shoulders instead of the swing of hips. But Midnight had spent enough time in a man's shape to truly act like one and appear as one, as long as she could touch their personalities. This face however, was just one of her fabricated faces. She had the werewolf girl, a dark haired vampire boy, two human faces male and female, a faerie, even a warlock with black bat wings. Shadowhunters she could not fabricate however. The detailing of the Marks always betrayed her. But if she had a picture of an already existing Nephilim, only then could she produce an exact copy.

She merged in with the flow of people. She wandered the city a bit, taking casual glances at everything. New York was like an art deco painting, all black, gray and white, with straight symmetric lines. But Midnight didn't particularly love New York. There was too much smog, too many people, too many cars, too much of everything. _Were all cities like this?_ She wondered to herself.

Midnight stopped at a café, picking up a bagel and tea. She sunk her teeth into the bread, tearing it and chewing slowly. Mortal food was so much better than faerie food. It was so much more substantial, actually filling your stomach instead of leaving that feeling of emptiness but no hunger.

After putting it off as long as possible, she found the Institute, her eyes seeing right through the glamour. She had to admit that it was beautiful, in an old Gothic novel way. She knew it was empty at the moment, all of the New York Shadowhunters out investigating the Maia Roberts incident. If she had been thorough in her planning, there would be no way for Maia to wriggle out of this. She had no alibi, no one could support her innocence. She would be killed by the Shadowhunters. And in revenge, the wolves would attack the Shadowhunters. _How wonderful_, she thought sarcastically.

She changed back into herself, or the face that suited Lady Midnight, and touched the Institute door. It opened under her touch. Her steps echoed as she slowly walked into the middle of the foyer. The first thing she did was look in the display cases. There was no necklace or crown that looked like the one in the picture.

Cursing the King and Queen for not giving her enough information she found her way to the library. Lady Midnight tried not to marvel at the sight of so many books, just waiting to be opened. Everything in her wanted to sit down at one of the tables, grab a book and hole up for a while.

Sighing to herself, she wandered the library. She passed by the Gray Book and stopped. Maybe the log of magical items was near it. Her eyes roamed the titles, decoding the looping script of foreign titles, her fingers grazing the bindings. Then she found it.

It was titled The Extensive Encyclopedia of Magical Items. She pulled it from its place and placed it on a nearby table, sitting down and opening it. A plume of dust rose from the yellowed pages, making her cough. Midnight found a section called Downworld Magical Items. She found the crown and necklaces, on a page titled "The Dark Artifices".

The crown and necklaces had belonged to Mab, a Faerie Queen. Next to the finely sketched versions of them, it said: _these pieces of jewelery enhance the magical power of the wearer and can make one invulnerable._

But that didn't explain why there were two necklaces. Maybe the power came from the second wearer, they becoming a siphon of power for the other. That would be considered dark. But artifice… What did that mean?

A door slammed. Midnight jerked from her reverie. What was she going to do? What was going to leave the least tracks?

Fishing out her phone, she took quick pictures of the page. That would have to do. She looked at them. She would be able to zoom in, if she downloaded them onto a computer and took a better look.

Footsteps approached, just outside of the library door. _Oh crap_, she thought. _They're here. Why did I take so long?_ _Why did I have to procrastinate coming here?_

The Lightwoods entered the room, Alec telling some joke to his sister, when they saw their mother sitting at the table, reading a book.

"Mom? Wha- What are you doing here?" Alec asked.

Lady Midnight, as Maryse Lightwood, tilted her head. "What do you mean, what am I doing here, Alexander?"

"You were away on Clave business, I thought it was an extended trip in Idris," Isabelle said.

"Well, I had some time to spare, so I Portalled here to see my children. Can't I do that?"

Maryse stood, shaking wayward black hairs from her face. Isabelle frowned slightly at her clothing. Her mother usually never dressed so, well, sloppish. She didn't think that her mother owned a pair of sweatpants. Well, people changed. Especially Maryse after her divorce, even though it had been mutual.

Alec smiled crookedly and went to hug his mother. He didn't notice how she slightly hesitated to hug him, awkwardly patting his back. Isabelle ruefully let a smile form and hugged her as well. She pressed her face into her mother's neck, drawing comfort from her smell; clean laundry, sweat and the slight floral smell of her perfume. She felt like she needed it, with the whole Maia situation. Their end of their investigation went cold at the Praetor Lupus. Alec left again, to find his _parabatai_ at the pack bookstore.

Clary and Simon were going to Maia's apartment. Even though she had long gotten over her main jealousies with Clary, Isabelle was a bit envious of the two of them. They were closer than ever since they decided to become _parabatai_.

Mayrse's hand went to her pocket. She sighed. "Sorry Isabelle, it seems that my time is up. I have to go back to Idris."

Isabelle muttered an "its okay" and left for her room. The fake Maryse sighed. Lady Midnight left the library quickly and exited the Institute. As she merged again with the crowd of continuous pedestrians, she released the Change, her skin melting back into her chosen skin. Finding an internet café, she logged on as a guest, and plugged in her phone. Her images popped up, and she zoomed in on the page. Underneath the description, there was a history.

_First resided in the New York Institute. _

_Last sighting: Los Angeles Institute. _

Looked like she was going to the City of Angels.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Clary and Simon got off the subway, joining the crowd of people ascending the stairs. The subway entrance and exit continuously ate and spit out people, everyone rushing to get where they needed to go. Clary frowned when someone's wayward elbow banged into her, pushing her into Simon. Simon smiled sympathetically at her. Through the _parabatai_ bond, she felt his light amusement at her expression, like she wanted to start seriously beating someone up.

Simon was struck on how everything changed after the Dark War. He had begun learning about the Shadow World, Ascended into Shadowhunter status, became Clary's parabatai. Now, they were one of the most renowned _parabatai_ teams in the Clave, along with Jace and Alec. He had heard murmurs of another parabatai team, of two teenagers, Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn. But more of the rumours had been around Emma herself, as a prodigy of some sort. Simon swore that the girl was a female version of Jace, and he thought the world only needed one.

He remembered how Clary had just found out about who she really was, worried about controlling her rune powers. Now, Clary had contributed numerous new runes for the Clave to use and was a very skilled fighter.

Simon himself had gone through too many transformations. First he had been human, then turned into a vampire, then to a Daylighter vampire, then back to human and then a Shadowhunter. He remembered most of what happened, but there was still a sense of forgetting when it came to certain things, like he was forever reaching for a long buried memory. It irritated him to no end. If only he could…

He shook the thoughts from his head, as Clary spotted Maia's apartment. It used to be Jordan's and Simon's apartment, back in 2007, when they were teenagers. Before Jordan was killed by that bastard, Sebastian in the Dark War. They ascended the fire escape, passing by the wolfsbane plants that Simon had first mistaken for marijuana. They looked like they haven't been watered in a while, the leaves and stems drooping dramatically.

Clary slowly unsheathed her sword, the blade patterned with dark stars, the symbol of the Morgensterns. Simon didn't feel like remembering what the name of it was, it was complicated, foreign, and if he tried to spell it in his head, he would end up standing there for a while, saying letters aloud.

Simon withdrew his daggers, taking comfort in their cold grips. Clary nodded to him. With a deep breath, he brought the door down with one kick. Clary went in first, as always. _She really needs to start looking before going_, Simon thought exasperatedly. Some things never changed.

Skirting around the shards of door frame, they both glanced around. They separated, searching the few rooms that were there. Clary heard Simon searching around, a footstep here, a sliding of a cabinet there. Tightening her grip on her sword, she pushed open the door to the last room.

Maia laid on the ground, her hair a messy halo around her head. A bit of blood peeked out from the corner of her mouth. Swallowing the sudden thickness in her throat, she nudged Maia with her foot. The young woman stirred, groaning roughly as she blinked her eyes open. Her eyes widened when she took in Clary standing above her, face impassive, silver sword pointed at her. The dark stars on the surface gleamed dangerously in the dimming light.

Maia jolted to her feet, immediately settling into a half crouch. _What is going on? Why are they here with weapons? Why do they want me? What is going on?_ Maia's panicked thoughts bounced in her head. She felt her teeth lengthening, her nails growing in response. She was so consumed by the sight of Clary in front of her, that she didn't realize that Simon had sneaked up behind her, pulling her arms behind her. The sudden agony of burning flesh told her they were using silver handcuffs on her.

"Maia Roberts, you are hereby charged of breaking the Law," Clary said, her voice grave.

"But… What…" Maia sputtered. What did she do?

"For killing an innocent mundane," Simon supplied, pushing her out of the bedroom.

The New York Shadowhunters stared inside the Sanctuary, at their friend bound to a stake with silver handcuffs binding her hands and now her feet. Silent tears ran down Maia's face, as the silver burned her flesh, sending wave after wave of hot pain running along her skin.

"No one can support her innocence. She has no alibi," Alec said, pacing a little.

"What did she say?" Jace asked Simon and Clary.

"She seemed pretty confused. The look in her eyes when she found us in her apartment," Clary shook her head. "She had no idea why we were there."

"She doesn't remember anything from that night either," Simon added.

"Then she's guilty," Isabelle said.

"No, we don't know that yet," Simon protested.

"Look Simon, look at the evidence. Nobody knows where she was that night. She doesn't remember anything, because she was in a bloodlust haze."

Alec placed a hand on his younger sister's shoulder. Her face released itself of its hard set, melting into a devastated look.

Jace watched Maia, a thoughtful look on his face. "What was different about her that night?"

"You mean besides the whole luring and killing thing?" Simon piped.

Jace gave him a look. "Besides that, _mundane_."

"In case you've forgotten-"

"Hey! Calm down now," Clary placed a hand on each of the young men. She looked at each of them. "Now, Simon what was different?"

He thought about it. "Well, she was wearing some pretty tight clothes, a lot of leather. Maia usually doesn't wear stuff like that."

"But you dress differently when you're going clubbing. It's not substantial enough. What else?"

"The bracelet."

All of them turned to Isabelle, who was staring into the Sanctuary with shining dark eyes. "Her bracelet was flashing this deep purple. But it only did that when we were close to her."

Her hand went to her necklace, the ruby that pulsed scarlet light whenever a demon was near.

"A bracelet tuned to Shadowhunter energy? Why would she want that?"

"She wanted it so she knew if we came. She wanted either to see her do it or to give her a warning to run."

**….**

Lady Midnight skirted into an alley, closing her eyes. The Change came when she willed it. She Changed into her werewolf girl identity. She looked over, deeper into the alley. One very frightened homeless man was staring at her with wide eyes. She bared her teeth at him, making him scrabble against the wall in fear. Laughing to herself, Lady Midnight left the alley and made her way to Taki's. She wanted to see some other Downworlders, besides faeries. She wanted to see vampires, werewolves, warlocks. Anything except faeries. She already had to deal with them when she went home, or the closest thing that she called home. If she had a home before, she didn't remember.

She slid into a booth, kicking off her sneakers, resting her aching feet on the plastic bench. A laminated menu appeared before her.

"What are you doing here?"

Midnight looked up to Kaelie, her all blue eyes glinting dangerously. Even though she couldn't see through Midnight's glamour, she knew it was her. She had been there when she had fabricated that werewolf girl persona.

"Just having some food. I'll take the pancakes," she said, pointing her finger at the menu. She handed it back to her. "And a milkshake. Thanks."

Kaelie growled to herself but turned away to get her order. _That little…_

Midnight chuckled to herself, stretching her legs.

"You look very self-satisfied."

Midnight looked up into green cat eyes. A chill went down her spine. Oh God. Magnus Bane, of all people. High Warlock of New York. What was he doing here?

"May I?" he gestured to the bench across from her.

She shrugged. He slid into the booth, patting her feet when he sat down.

"I haven't seen you around before," he noted, resting his chin on his hand.

Midnight froze, not answering.

"I know I'm so amazing to behold, but you don't have to be so nervous," he said, flicking a hand. Midnight swore that she saw glitter fly into the air as he did.

"Why would the High Warlock of New York want to see me?" she asked, leaning into the cushioned back of the bench.

"Maybe because I saw that bracelet around your teeny little wrist. You have it tuned to something, don't you?"

Midnight cleared her throat. "It's tuned to demon energies. So I know if a demon is near."

"And why would some werewolf girl have that?"

Midnight's face puckered. "My parents were killed by demons. They had given this bracelet to me before they, well.."

Magnus smiled sympathetically. He looked down at the jewels, which were winking softly at him.

"Now unless you want to have breakfast with me.." Midnight said, jerking her chin.

"I think I will actually."

_Great_, Midnight cursed in her head. Her food was brought by a hot-tempered Kaelie, the faerie girl glaring at them both when she brought their food.

Midnight spouted one of her stories to Magnus. Her name was Aria, she was eighteen, she originated from Canada and had lived in the deep woods with the British Columbia pack.

Magnus regaled her with a tale of his own, about this ridiculous fight that broke out at one of his famous parties. Midnight couldn't help herself; she laughed when he started gesturing wildly, imitating someone's voice badly. In the corner of her eye, her bracelet winked purple light at her. She casually hid her arm beside her, so Magnus wouldn't see.

"What's going on?" someone asked in a friendly tone. They both looked up to see Alec Lightwood gazing at them curiously. His dark blue eyes warmed when they landed on Magnus but swirled in confusion, once he looked at her.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Oh, I'm Aria," Midnight said, holding out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

Alec hesitated before taking her hand. He recognized the feel of calluses on her fingers as they slid against his skin. He had plenty of his own. Why would a werewolf have so many?

Midnight studied his perplexed look. Her face set into a pleasant mask. He had felt the calluses on her fingers. Sometimes aspects of her Change weren't complete. Sometimes she couldn't hide the whip marks on her back, or in this case, the calluses on her fingers. She had assumed they were from the years of training of the fey. But, they were layered, built up from many years of weapon handling.

"Hm. Werewolf. I've never met you before."

"Well you wouldn't have. I'm not from here, Alec Lightwood."

Alec jolted slightly. "And how did you know who I am?"

Magnus placed a reassuring hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Hon, you're famous remember? All of Downworld knows who you are."

Aria gestured to Magnus with a hand, nodding. "Yeah, you're quite a celebrity. One of the Shadowhunters that went to the demon realms and back, alive. Helping in the defeat of Jonathan Morgenstern. I'd say that's pretty awesome."

"See, Alec? This girl knows what she's talking about."

Midnight smiled pleasantly. "Well, thanks for breakfast, Magnus. It was a blast." She winked at both of them and left with a swish of straight brown hair.

As she left, she heard Alec say "Magnus, what.." before the door shut loudly behind her.

Stifling a giggle, she headed back to Faerie.

"Why did you decide to talk to some random wolf girl?" Alec asked, narrowing his eyes.

Magnus' cat eyes followed Aria's retreating back. "There's something interesting about her. I just can't put a finger on it."

Alec swallowed his jealous barb, knowing that it would just spark an argument, or worse, the exasperated old look of his immortal boyfriend. And that he couldn't endure. Not today.

Magnus grabbed Alec's hand, his eyes softening. "There's something wrong, I know it. Tell me."

Alec knew that Jace had said just the Institute Shadowhunters, but he couldn't help it. He stood from the bench. "Come on. I'll tell you at the apartment."

They both left the booth. Just as the door slammed closed, their fingers interlocked.

**Hey guys! Hope you're enjoying the Lady Midnight so far! Please comment! :)**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Lady Midnight packed her things, just a simple duffle bag belonging to Kaelie. The faerie girl's anger towards her was long faded, the only remainder was exasperation. She packed a variety of clothes, men's and women's clothes that were baggy enough for vary heights and widths. Kaelie handed her some extra weapons, mainly throwing knives, and a mini-crossbow. Midnight shoved in a small quiver of arrows and a collapsable bow as well. After slinging a belt of throwing daggers on, she pulled on her jacket, a midnight blue duster that would stretch and shrink with her as she Changed. A one woman army, locked and loaded.

Shouldering the bag, she gave a quick hug to Kaelie and left the house.

Of course, she couldn't leave without seeing the Seelie Queen or Unseelie King. They just had to give her more things to do. It didn't help that they wanted the Crown and Necklace of Mab as soon as possible. To Midnight that meant get it now or else there will be more than whippings to look forward to.

As she headed to the throne room, a faerie with stringy vines for hair handed her a necklace. She had her angel blood sensing bracelet reformed into a necklace. Considering the attention it was getting, she hoped the New York Shadowhunters didn't make the link between the bracelet and Maia. If they did, they might get some warlock to try to find her location. Well, if she had an anti-locating spell put on her, then she wouldn't have to worry. The only way they would be able to find her was actually trying to tail her. And Shadowhunters couldn't tail someone that could wear anyone's face.

She quickly pulled it on, the stones winking violet at her. The necklace reminded her of something else, it was something about the oval shape and how it nestled just between her breasts. Midnight shook her head. She didn't have time to remember things from a forgotten past. She had to go.

When she entered, the Unseelie King's black throne was empty. She released the breath that she didn't realize she was holding. _Thank God_.

The Seelie Queen's marble legs were resting on an armrest, her back resting against the other. This time she didn't say a word. A piece of paper drifted from the Seelie Queen's hand to Midnight's. She didn't have to read it to know what it was, as she bowed to the Queen. The Seelie Queen nodded ascent, allowing her leave.

Pivoting on her heel, Midnight pulled up her hood. Only the dark shine of her eyes was visible.

**…..**

Magnus pushed open the Institute door, Alec right at his flank. No matter how much he was invited into the Institute, he still felt that he shouldn't be there. Every inch of the place shouted _we are Shadowhunters, therefore better_, with its pretentious paintings, tapestries and sculptures. The two men weaved their way to the Sanctuary, where Simon was trying to talk to Maia. Magnus pulled in a breath. The girl's skin was shiny with sweat, the skin under her eyes purple and red like bruises. Coils of smoke rose from the manacles around her wrists, keeping her tethered to the pole. To Magnus, it looked like a stake, where you burned witches alive.

He saw the sadness in each of the Shadowhunters' eyes, that duty had to come before love. They didn't want Maia to be bloodthirsty. The fact that she killed a mundane muddled Magnus. If she was suffering from bloodlust, she would have been showing signs much in advance.

He shooed away Simon with an impatient flick of his hand. Simon's mouth flattened into a line, but otherwise he didn't protest. Magnus centered himself, bringing the magic he fostered at his core into his hands. He waved them over her body, blue flames dancing along his fingers. He sensed the poison of silver in her blood, but there was something else too. Something barely there, like a fleeting breeze.

"There's a sedative in her system," Magnus announced, stemming his magic.

"Someone drugged her."

"But why? Did that drug trigger the bloodlust?" Jace crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

"No, no drug of that kind. Just a plain old sedative. Nothing fancy about it." Magnus shrugged.

Simon just shook his head, sinking into the ground. "I just don't understand. It was totally unlike her. She dressed different, acted different, but.."

Magnus jolted. An idea was started to form.

"Was there anything special about this change of appearance?"

"Besides wearing tight leather and some bracelet-"

Magnus felt like slamming his head against the wall. _Oh Demons of Hell. Really_.

"And what did this bracelet look like?"

"It was purple gemstone kind of thing," Isabelle shrugged.

"What's so important about this bracelet Magnus?" Clary asked.

Magnus ran a hand through his spiky hair, not caring that product was sticking to his skin. "Because we have a shape-shifter on our hands, kiddies. One that is out to get Shadowhunters."

**…**

When she walked into the mortal world, she entered a cave. Water slapped at her shoes, flooding into the toes. Grimacing, she quickly pulled them off along with her soaks. Shoving them into her duffle, she carefully hopped between the sharp rises of rock, her toes clinging to the edges as her skin slid against the slick surface. Arms straight out, she kept her balance, repressing a shudder as her feet touched something slimy. Midnight didn't look at what it was. If she did, she might lose her balance.

The rocks decreased in size, from giant shards of boulder to sharp gravel. Midnight's mouth flattened as she felt the edges of the rocks cut open the soft flesh of her feet. She hastened, bleeding feet moving quickly over the rocks. Midnight jogged a few steps as she reached the soft hot sand of the beach. She couldn't help herself when she gasped. Pristine white beach stretched out in a crescent, its fingers cupping the blue-green water. Where in Los Angeles was she? Or was she somewhere else in California?

She sat down in the sand, not caring that it was sticking to her legs. She was so glad she decided to wear a maxi skirt. Pants would have been way too hot for this insane weather. Stuffing her bleeding feet into the sand, she cast a quick spell. A shining black sketchbook popped into her hands, along with a plain number 2 pencil. Opening it, she spread a hand across the page, liking the feeling of it against her skin. She released a breath. Tension flooded out from her shoulders and chest. She didn't have to worry about anything just yet.

Her pencil began to sketch out the outline of the coast, the shapes of the palm trees, the water pushing and pulling at the sand like an insistent child. She summoned some water pencils, deftly colouring the various shades of the sea, and the flat gray of the sky. After wetting it with some water, she smiled, seeing the scene come to life before her on the page.

"That's a nice picture."

Midnight's hand immediately went to one of her daggers as she turned towards the voice. A boy stood above her, hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets. His black hair was long enough for him to get it out of his eyes with a wave of his head. Gray eyes the colour of the sky that day stared at her intensely.

"Um, thanks," she said. The watercolour pencil box at her side disappeared with a subtle flash.

The boy sat beside her, undeterred by her standoffishness. His eyes were analyzing, searching. Midnight cursed to herself. Why did she stay with the Lady Midnight face? That meant she might had to change what Lady Midnight looked like. But as long as it wasn't her true face. Honestly, it felt like she didn't know what her true appearance looked like. But at least he couldn't see all of her.

"So, what are you doing here, alone on the beach?" he asked.

Midnight shrugged. "Just taking in the sights."

"On private property?"

"Excuse me?"

"If you haven't noticed, you are on private property. You can be fined for trespassing," the boy said, pointing to a wayward sign, lilting sideways in the shadow of a palm.

"What? Are you going to report me?" Midnight narrowed her eyes. Her other hand, hidden underneath her jacket, rested on the blade of one of her daggers. Out of discomfort, her feet squirmed, moving out of the sand. The cuts hadn't quite healed yet.

The boy's eyes darted to them, narrowing when he saw the raw pink lines of scrapes and cuts. He didn't miss a thing. "What were you doing, walking on rocks? That's pretty idiotic."

"Thanks, Mr Smartass."

Closing her jacket around her, she stood up, looking down stormily at the boy. She wasn't sure what she made of him. His gaze deeply unsettled her, like they were trying to find the real her, digging through the facades and masks she layered on herself. It wasn't something she was used to. People always took the face she wore for what it was. It was like he knew that it wasn't her real face. But that wasn't possible. Not yet.

The boy stood up too, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Midnight spotted the thick black marks at his neck and on his now bared forearms. _Shadowhunter_. _Hmm, well maybe he knew exactly where the Institute was. Maybe it was close by._

He grabbed her arm not ungently. "Come on. We have to get those cuts looked at."

She jerked her arm out of his grasp. "I'll be fine thanks."

She went to walk away when he grabbed her hand. A jolt of electricity sparked in all her nerves. It felt like she was burning with some dark fire.

"Come on. You don't want them to get infected."

His tone had no room for argument. Midnight had the feeling he would argue with her until the sun went down. Sighing, she let him pull her off the beach. She felt a little perplexed that he hadn't let go of her hand. The feel of it in hers was so alien, but felt herself liking the feel of the calluses on his skin. Ones that matched her own.

The shadows of the palm fronds made strange patterns on the boy's pale skin. Midnight was tempted to touch them. She bit her lip. She didn't understand this draw, this attraction to this rude, too observant Shadowhunter boy.

When they emerged from the copse of trees, a church sat in front of them. The sand, the sea and the mountains could be seen all around. She knew what it was. The Los Angeles Institute. Midnight smiled right at his back. For a smart boy, he wasn't very suspicious of random girls drawing on their beaches. At least that took out the time she needed to actually find the Institute.

She wondered if the New York Shadowhunters had figured it out yet. Probably not. They weren't the types to look at details.

Midnight stared at the Institute, bringing to life the glamours before it. It hovered over the Gothic windows and arches like a mirage, a plain building with a cross on the top.

"Unusual spot for a church," she said casually.

The boy turned to her. "Yes, it is." He didn't say anything else.

So much getting some information out of him. She needed someone more talkative, more, well approachable.

He sat her on the steps while he went inside. When he disappeared, she checked her feet. They were nearly healed. Cursing, she fixed the glamour, making them look like before, raw and crusted with blood and sand. She knew the waters had their own magic, which accelerated her own fast healing to impossible rates.

Behind the door, two people argued, male and female. Summoning a werewolf's hearing, she listened in.

"Ty, why did you bring some mundane here? You know we'll have to wipe her memory."

"Liv, she was hurt, so she needed medical attention. I wasn't going to deny that to her."

"You-" the female voice, Liv, stopped.

"What, Livia? What were you going to say? Usually I don't care?"

"Ty.."

Midnight turned her hearing off when the door opened. The boy, Ty, settled his lanky length beside her, Band-Aids and some disinfectant. The door opened again to reveal a slim tall girl, with brown hair and blue-green eyes. Every inch of her radiated disapproval. She shared the same full cupids-bow mouth as Ty, and some of the same soft features. Livia. _They were twins_, Midnight realized.

Ty took her feet into his lap, quickly disinfecting them with a cotton ball. Midnight hissed slightly. His gray eyes peered up at her through long, sooty lashes. Every time he looked at her, she was startled by the far away, yet intense stare.

With deft fingers, he pressed Band-Aids on the cuts. He handed her some shoes, around her size. She pulled them on.

"Well, thanks, Mr Smartass," she said, smiling a little. He awkwardly smiled back. "Ty," he corrected. Midnight smiled. "Mia," she said, making up a name on the top of her head. In the corner of her eye, Livia was staring hard at her, or the parts of her face that she could make out from under the hood.

Ty handed her a cup. "Here's some water." She nodded thanks. She knew it wasn't water. It was the forgetting potion. Thank god she was immune to most potions, including this one. Or at least the Shadowhunter brew.

She swallowed it all. Despite being immune to the memory-wiping, she still felt a little foggy when it got into her system, like she took too much pain-killer. Midnight didn't have to pretend the glazed look in her eye as she stared at them.

Sensing that the mundane girl was compliant, the two Shadowhunters grabbed her by the arms, and helped her off the steps, leading her off the path until she was at a bus stop at some gas station close by.

Livia studied her brother as they walked back to the Institute. Why some random mundane girl named Mia intrigued him so much mystified her. She looked over her shoulder, finding the blue hooded figure. But there was just something about the girl, like an aura that just drew you to her. The thing that nagged at her was the fact that she didn't see her face under that hood. And neither did Ty.

Whatever happened, she knew what she would do. She would protect Ty from anything that threatened to hurt him. Even a girl that would break his heart.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

At the gas station, Midnight picked up a few things, a jumbo coloured map of Los Angeles, some Reese cups, sunglasses, one of those floppy hats and a bottled water. Quickly handing over some cash, she exited the station. She felt the Change tingle over her skin, from the Lady Midnight face to a gorgeous dark haired mundane girl. She had seen the face on a billboard, for some underwear advertisement. Stuffing her jacket into her bag, she pulled on the hat and sunglasses, stuffing a Reese Cup into her mouth. She needed a place to stay, close enough to her targets but not so close to draw suspicion.

Midnight easily found a ride into the heart of the city, with a bunch of frat boys actually on a Greyhound bus. They were all heading back to UCLA from their championship football game.

Since they didn't start screaming, Midnight knew her weapons weren't visible on her. The glamour must have worked.

Her eyes seemed to be permanently rolling as the boys yelled their fraternity name in some silly chant, banging their chests, drinking sloppily and trying to hit on her. Once they realized she was only interested in transportation, they mainly left her alone, except for a couple of them, chatting at her about touchdowns and tackles to make themselves sound impressive.

But she wasn't listening. In her mind, she saw that Shadowhunter boy, Ty and the way he looked at her. She shivered. What was so special about him?

When the bus finally stopped at UCLA, Midnight released a sigh of relief. The bus had begun to stink of beer and body odour. _Thank God no one threw up_, she thought as she hopped off the bus. She breathed in the scents of the day, sunlight, freshly trimmed grass, warming concrete. The smells of a university all right.

With the frat boys shouting after her, Midnight left the campus, merging in with the flow of people.

Despite being more tropical and sunny, Los Angeles was just as bad as New York. She preferred the colourful oblivion of the land around the Institute, not clustered with blocks of buildings or houses or infested with people.

After walking through the city awhile, she found the perfect hotel. With her card the faeries provided her, she paid for her room. The attendant's eyes flashed green at her. Midnight considered her with a tilt of her head.

"You and you faerie people with your money," the woman grumbled, sliding the card through the machine. Midnight took it from her. She leaned across the counter, getting in the woman's face.

"I'm not a faerie, you understand me?" she said in a low voice.

"Then what are you?"

She took the room key. "Nothing you need to worry about," she said, walking away.

….

The Sunset Strip wasn't truly alive until sunset, when the day was done and the night came out to play. She had done her research before going out. Dotted along the Sunset Strip, were a series of warlock-run clubs. Several of those warlocks were on the list from the Queen.

Whatever they did, or knew, it was dangerous. That meant they had to be put down.

There was a string of clubs, all named after notable warlocks. Bane, Fade, Loss and Fell. They were owned by Malcolm Fade, the High Warlock of Los Angeles. His name was on the list, along with all the sub-owners of the clubs that were also warlocks. She first entered Loss, the club named after Catarina Loss. Malcolm was good friends with all of those warlocks, which wasn't surprising.

Despite her best efforts, she didn't find the warlocks in the pulsing crowd. Just as when she was going to leave, her necklace warmed against her skin, flashing purple at her neck. Shadowhunters. A girl and a boy easily made their way through the jumping and gyrating crowd, the girl's blond hair practically glowing in the sea of dark heads. The tall dark haired boy followed at faithfully at her side.

Midnight weaved her way through, using her elbows when someone didn't particularly feel like moving. She ignored the glares and appreciative looks from men and women alike. She was still wearing that underwear model's face. Maybe she should have Changed into something different, to draw less attention.

She settled a good distance away as the pair approached a purple-skinned man. The sub-owner of Loss, Jared Gold. _Thank you stupid Nephilim_, she thought as she summoned vampire senses. Her vision and hearing sharpened.

"We're looking for Jared Gold," the blond girl said.

"You're looking at him."

"Why Gold? Aren't you-" the boy said, before being cut off by the girl.

"Julian," she chastised. "Anyway, we are wondering if you know anything about this." She handed some picture over to him. All Midnight could get from it was the outline of still bodies lying against the sand. A murder? Interesting.

"Ah, your parents. Well, their death was definitely unnatural. And there were no wounds?"

"None," the girl confirmed.

"Well, I don't know how much about this kind of dark magic, whatever it is. You might want to ask Malcolm Fade though."

"No one else would know about this?" the girl asked.

"No, he isn't the High Warlock for nothing, girl," Jared Gold answered, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Maybe this was the mystery the fey wanted covered up. But what did the deaths of two Shadowhunters have to do with it?

The Shadowhunter girl bid thanks and left with the Julian boy.

From the folds of her jacket, Midnight withdrew the blowing tube. Popping a dart in, she aimed for Jared Gold. He took a gulp from a bright cobalt coloured drink when she blew. The drink splattered on the ground, shards of glass flying as he dropped to the ground, dead.

Tucking it back into her jacket, she raced out of Loss, following the backs of the two Shadowhunters. Thanks to the crowd, she didn't have to worry about them thinking they were being tailed.

They turned into Fade, the letters glowing a bright neon violet. Midnight followed. She had to get to Malcolm Fade before they did.

While keeping an eye on them in the crowd, she weaved through the people, going towards the back, where his office was held.

She paused at the door, looking into the small slit windows. Several big men in suits stood guard at different doors, exuding strength and brutality. She cast a quick sensing spell. Mainly werewolves, a couple of vampires and even some humans were in there.

She sighed, pushing open the double doors. She started stumbling around, as if she was drunk. She pasted a silly smile on her face, forcing a high pitched giggle out of her throat. One of the guards caught her, a werewolf.

"Miss, you're not allowed back here," he said in a stern voice.

"Oh, I was looking for the bathroom," she said, smiling too brightly.

He gave her the appraising look, eyes flicking down from her hair to her feet, appreciating every inch of the body she wore. His eyes gleamed green under the fluorescent lights. He pulled her close, his hand landing on her ass and squeezing.

_Oh no. He just did not do that._ She knew there was a camera mounted just behind her.

She smiled. Time to give them a good show.

She pressed her body against his, making him groan. Then with a quick movement, a dagger jumped into her hand, its blade slicing open his throat. His blood sprayed onto the white walls and floors with a sudden gush. The other guards let out a shout, running towards her. Midnight pulled up her hood. Smiling, she took out another dagger, letting them fly. They found home in two hearts.

Midnight ran towards them, leaped into the air, pushing off against the wall. Her legs wrapped tightly around the man's neck. Yanking herself down, she flipped him onto the ground, stabbing any available flesh she could see. Still on the ground, she tripped another guard, killing him as well. The vampire grabbed her from behind, arms locked around her neck. Midnight felt his breath on her neck, just as he went to bite her. Finding another dagger, she jammed it backwards, feeling the reward of hot liquid soaking her hand.

Yanking it out, she stalked towards the remaining guard. He threw a punch. She grabbed his arm, pushing it away from her. He stumbled, allowing her to sink her blade into his chest.

The door she entered through, revealing the two Shadowhunters. A blade flashed in the air. Midnight managed to dodge, the blade, which was actually a wind-and-fire-wheel, impaling itself in the wall just behind her.

The boy Julian reached for daggers at his side. Midnight took out her bow, letting it expand in segments as she jerked it out. She blocked incoming daggers from the boy, the knives clattered loudly on the ground. The blond started to charge, the boy following suit. The vampire rose between them, his head a gross mess of ripped open flesh and dark blood.

Midnight nocked an arrow, and let it loose. The vampire crumpled into dust as it found his heart. She nocked another, just as the girl jumped off the wall, seraph blade raised above her head. She let it loose. It made a thud as it hit Julian's chest, just missing his heart. Midnight blocked the blonde's seraph blade with her bow, shoving the girl away from her.

Growling, the Shadowhunter struck again and again. Midnight had to admit, she was really good. But yet, still not her caliber of good. Dodging a strike from her blade, Midnight spun, her grip sliding down her bow and lashed out. The girl flew into the wall as the bow struck her in the face, blades clattering out of her hands. Cursing, Midnight took that opportunity to make her getaway, carefully avoiding the bodies and pools of blood. She stepped over the groaning Julian and paused. Without looking at the girl, she pulled the arrow out of his chest. His body rose and fell hard, the boy exclaiming in pain.

Studying the blood on the arrowhead, she tucked the arrow into her jacket, beside the blow tube. She might need the blood sometime. The flaps of her jacket fanning out like unfurled wings, the doors opened by themselves with a sudden bang. They closed decisively behind her.

**Hey guys! I'm so excited about this chapter, that Lady Midnight has her major badass moment. Anyways, hope you're enjoying it so far! Please comment!**


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Julian woke up lying in the infirmary. Emma sat beside his bed, hair loose in a golden waterfall as she slept. He liked the open, relaxed look of her face, not twisted by anger, stress, bloodlust or complete concentration. It was rare that he got to see her like this, even though they were parabatai. Or at least lately.

He watched with a slight smile on his face, wishing that he had a paintbrush to capture how she looked in that moment. He pushed himself up, groaning as the movement pulled at his chest wound. Bandages wound around the entire length of his chest. He frowned when he spotted the growing red stain near his heart.

Emma stirred, her lashes fluttering. They opened to reveal gold-brown eyes that always burned with some inner light. He felt the sinking of disappointment as her face settled into her familiar mask.

"Jules, you're not supposed to move," she said, her hands reaching out for him. His hands clasped hers.

"Really, Em, its okay. The arrow missed my heart remember?"

"Barely," she said gruffly, pulling her hands out from his.

Something flickered in the depths of Julian's blue-green eyes. "Help me up."

"Jules –"

"Please Emma."

She scowled. She really didn't know why he acted like this sometimes. Stupid Blackthorn stubbornness. Yet, she was stubborn as well, which made arguments hard and heated when they broke out.

Sighing, she slung his arm over her shoulders and helped him up. She tried to ignore how she instinctively moved closer to him, her arm wrapped just below his shoulder blades. But her body knew Jules. Her side began to burn in contact with his. She subtly placed a bit more space between them, not wanting to draw Jules' questions that she wouldn't, couldn't answer.

They went to his room, which was scattered with various art supplies, half-painted canvases, paintbrushes and paint-splattered smocks. Emma released a sigh. "Really, Jules, you need to clean up. You might be housing an empire of rats."

"And the name of that empire is Ratica," he answered grandly.

Emma allowed herself to smile a little. She really wanted to laugh at his joke, but she thought that might give everything away. He was so used to the withdrawn, controlled version of herself, except of course when she was angry or fighting.

She needed another boy to date. The last one didn't last very long, as she had found him cheating on her with some girl at a mundane party. When he went home, he had a broken arm and a black eye.

She and Cristina really had to go out again.

She helped Jules into his favourite chair, removing the half-finished canvas from the easel's framing and placing a blank one in.

Emma plopped down on his bed, as he got to work, sketching out an indiscernible outline on the canvas before starting to paint. She turned on his radio, tuning into some indie station.

Cristina Rosales hovered at the doorway, her dark hair pulled up into a top knot. A swirl of red twisted around the knot, like one of the swirly ice creams with different flavours. She knocked hesitantly.

Emma smiled, patting the comforter. Without much more hesitation, she jumped on the bed, making Emma bounce. They both giggled. They quieted when Julian gave them a "be-quiet-I'm-making-a-masterpiece" look.

"We should go out tonight," Emma said, stretching out on her back. Rolling over, she quickly put it back in a braid.

"So has Malcolm gotten back to you?"

"No." Emma sighed. "He's a bit freaked that some blue-jacketed assassin wanted to kill him."

"I wish that I was there for you guys," Cristina said, laying her cheek in her palm.

"No you don't," Julian and Emma said in unison.

"Why not?"

"You didn't see this person," Julian said, his brush making scratching sounds against the canvas. "The carnage that they caused…"

"The blood pools were practically lakes. And whoever this was, was extremely good. I could barely fend them off."

Cristina raised her eyebrows. Coming from Emma, that was a lot. And she knew how much this grated on her friend, even though it wasn't obvious. That despite all of her constant training, she still wasn't as good as this mysterious assassin. With Emma, she had to be the best.

"And what did this person look like?" Cristina asked.

"Like this," Julian pushed away from the canvas. Both of the girls gaped.

It was like Emma was back in that hallway all over again. The assassin's blue cloak-jacket fanned around them like unfurled wings. Daggers ran along their belt and crisscrossed on straps on their chest. Blood pooled at their feet, a limp hand there, and foot here. But what got Cristina the most was the face, or more like the absence of one. All she saw was the darkness of the hood, along with the silhouette of a bloodthirsty snarl and the shine of two eyes.

Somehow sensing the gravity of the situation, Livia, Ty, Dru and Taavy entered the room, staring.

Emma rolled off the bed, glaring at the canvas as if it was actually the assassin standing there. "We're going to find this person. Whoever they are."

…

Midnight took the chaos as an opportunity, quickly dispatching the names on the list with a quick blow from her blow tube. Authorities would think they all overdosed on some drug, or alcohol, or a mix of both. Nobody would look that close.

She was snuggled into her fine bed before anyone found out about the hits. She stared at the list. Malcolm Fade nagged at her. He needed to be dead. And it seemed like he was the most crucial hit as well. It was just tracking him down.

Maybe it would be easier if she got the Crown and Necklace of Queen Mab first. If she were invulnerable, any of his spells wouldn't affect her.

For what seemed like the umpteenth time, she attempted a locating spell. But all she got back was a static, like something was blocking her magical signal reaching out. But Midnight knew he had an anti-locating spell on him, he was the High Warlock of LA after all, but there might be a moment that the spell weakened. It had to be renewed every once and awhile and in that time of renewing the spell, was when it was weakest.

Pulling the black robe tie tighter around her waist, she went over to her sashes of daggers. All of them were there. The bloody blades had been returning to their sheaths. Midnight took the sashes into the bathroom, laying them out on the veined marble counter. She looked up into the mirror.

A handsome dark-haired man stood behind her, gold eyes staring intently at her. A slight smile pulled at his lips. She whirled, dagger in hand. But there was no one there, just her own shadow cast by the bright lights mounted above the mirror.

Midnight placed a hand on her chest, feeling the hammering of her heart underneath the fragile skin. She closed her eyes, quickly turning on the tap and splashing cold water on her face. Water dripping off her chin, nose and lips, she took a towel and wiped her face. She looked into the mirror again. The familiar features of the Lady Midnight persona looked back at her. No mysterious gold-eyed boy. Midnight couldn't shake the deeply unsettled feeling in her chest. The young man seemed very familiar to her. But she couldn't remember where she met him, if they even knew each other. Maybe her database knew something.

Midnight always thanked the angels and gods above for technology. It made researching a lot easier, especially with the Shadow World database. It allowed for her to search discretely. But she knew the Shadowhunters had alerts tagged to whatever a Downworlder or other Shadowhunters might search, just in case it was of concern. That alert would activate and the site would immediately find where you are. So usually she stayed away from it for precaution. But she looked up harmless things, like certain kinds of demons or other things a Shadowhunter would look up.

That matter was going to have to wait. She had to do some staking out.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

After days of watching the Institute, Midnight began to memorize the young Shadowhunters' patterns. The one named Ty, full name Tiberius Blackthorn usually spent all his time in his room, researching or reading. His twin, Livia Blackthorn practiced swordfighting in the afternoons, along with Cristina Rosales and Emma Carstairs. Julian Blackthorn came to practice as well, but much later, when his clothes and hair was splattered with paint. The one that took care of them, their uncle Arthur Blackthorn, was usually in the library.

That was a usual day.

But lately, the Carstairs girl had been practicing later and later, until she dropped from exhaustion. If Tiberius and Julian Blackthorn were staying up late, it was in their rooms. Everyone else was asleep.

Midnight knew she had to go at night. The case where the Crown and Necklaces of Mab were, luckily pretty distant from the training room and bedrooms. As long as no one was awake, it would be a quick, clean steal. And if someone was awake, well, unfortunate for them.

When night finally fell on the Los Angeles Institute, all of the Shadowhunters safely tucked in, Midnight finally approached, jogging up the steps. Her fingers touched the door, the Institute opening for her. Just to be careful, she took out the arrowhead flaked with Julian Blackthorn's blood. Wetting it with some water, she smeared it on the doorknob.

Her quiet footsteps sounded in the foyer, the moonlight filtering in from the windows, covering everything with a blue-white-silver sheen. She took out a dagger, the blade singing as it was unsheathed.

Taking slow quiet steps, she made her way to the showcases. With a quick flick of her fingers, the lock binding the glass case and the podium clicked open. Carefully sliding it out, she lifted the glass casing with gloved hands, she plucked the crown and necklaces from their mounts, then sliding the lock back into place.

Tucking the Dark Artifices into her jacket, she slid away. Midnight began to grin. _Too easy_.

A big yawn sounded behind her, with just enough warning to pull on a last minute change.

Ty Blackthorn ran a hand through his messy black hair, wearing full out fancy pajamas, black drawstring pants and a button down top. Midnight almost expected his initials to be sewn into the breast pocket. He was fairly skinny, but still had a layer of muscle to him like all Shadowhunters. Ty paused, seeing his twin at the staircase, watching him.

"I didn't know you were up," he said, yawning again.

Midnight as Livia yawned as well. "Couldn't sleep. I thought I heard something."

"That's why you have a dagger? Wouldn't you grab your sword?"

Midnight cursed in her head. Why did it have to be this too-inquisitive, too-attentive boy?

"I just grabbed the first thing I could," she said, shrugging.

She started going down the stairs. Ty started to follow. What was she supposed to do now? She had to ditch him.

Midnight grasped at Livia's emotions and thoughts. They were sluggish and faraway, lost in dreams. It seemed she was on her own for a bit.

With Livia's swirling thoughts, Midnight managed to find her way to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, taking a casual look inside. A hand closed the door.

"Hey! I was going to get something!" she exclaimed. Ty's level gray eyes sparkled in the moonlight, like the bright sheen of a sword.

"You're not Livia," he said in a level voice.

Midnight tried to hide her unease. Nobody has ever called her out before.

"What are you taking about Ty?" she said, tilting her head at him.

He pushed her into the counter, her back bending backwards against it as he glared down at her.

"Your clothes, was the first indicator. Then it was the dagger. Very familiar to one I had found at the killings by the assassin."

He pulled out one of her daggers. She knew she was missing one. She studied it, seeing the rune on the hilt blotted out by a Mark. Well shit.

"Well, Tiberius Blackthorn," she said, "You certainly caught me. Now what are you going to do with me?"

She Changed, wrapping herself in this time his body. He stumbled back a few steps as he saw Livia melt into himself. His own gray eyes twinkled at him as the assassin took out a dagger.

Ty gulped. He was good at the facts, the observations. Not the fighting. That was Livia's area.

Midnight's smile turned into a snarl, as she lashed out. Her foot connected with his chest, Ty flying backwards. She ran for the door.

Her breath was nearly knocked out of her as she collided with someone else. Great. Emma Carstairs.

"Ty? What's wrong?" she asked as they separated.

"The assassin's here," Midnight said in Ty's unshakable voice. "It's a shape-changer. They decided to disguise themselves as Livia, but I saw through it. They attacked me."

"Well, where is he?"

"Emma!"

Emma almost choked as she saw another Ty race out of the kitchen. "I'm the real Tiberius! Not him!"

She watched the two of them. One Ty was in fancy pajamas, while the other was wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt and a hoodie. Ty wore both of those to bed sometimes. They both clutched identical daggers.

The rest of the household began to wake up. All of them rubbing tired watery eyes, they all stopped when they saw Emma between the two Tys.

Emma unsheathed Cortana, weighting it in her hand. "Only one way to find out."

Then she swung at Midnight. She couldn't help herself. Years of training battle instincts into her made her react, her dagger blocking the blade.

"Gotcha," Emma smiled darkly. Midnight Changed, this time into Julian Blackthorn.

Her smile faded quickly. She backed up. She couldn't hurt Julian, even though she knew it wasn't him.

The new Julian swung out with the dagger, the blade slicing Emma's cheek. Emma jerked, hand rising to quell the blood. The sleepy Shadowhunters charged the second Julian, their eyes brightening when seeing the blood.

Midnight ran, the door getting closer and closer. She just had to get out of the Institute. Once she did that-

A body tackled her to the ground, knocking the wind out of her. She squirmed, trying to get out the person's grip.

Something cold suddenly encased her wrist. The magic that she fostered in her core froze over, now unreachable. No.. no..

The sudden surprise provided Ty the window to raise the dagger. The hilt of it hit Midnight in the temple. And then there was only darkness.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

When Midnight woke up, gold chains bound her to a damp wall and to the chair she was sitting in. Manacles encircled her wrists, ankles and neck. She tried to reach for her magic, but it was unreachable, blocked by some impenetrable wall. She looked down at her hands. They still bore the Shadowhunter Marks. She still wore the face of Julian Blackthorn. Midnight began to laugh, just as the door to her cell opened.

Emma and Julian entered, sitting across from her, along with the head of the Institute, Arthur Blackthorn. Their faces were hard with anger and determination.

"Now, why don't you start with telling us who you are," Arthur said, folding his hands together. Midnight stared at the hands, refusing to talk. If she had said anything revealing her affiliation with the fey, she would be dead on the spot.

She looked up, smiling a little. "I'm Julian Blackthorn," she said, staring right into Emma Carstairs' eyes. Something about the shade, the gold-brown drew her, tickling some long forgotten memory. Seeing them made a sudden sadness wash in.

"You have beautiful eyes, Emma Carstairs," she commented, smirking with Julian's lips. Julian's face hardened, the blue-green of his eyes hardening into glittering jewels. Oh, she touched a nerve. Interesting.

"Why are you still in Julian's form?" Arthur asked instead.

Midnight tilted her head at him, peering through Julian's long lashes. "Because I am stuck in it."

"The chains should have returned you to your true form," Julian said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Children, it is because this person is a very powerful being. Their magic far surpasses the magic of the chains," a grand voice announced.

Malcolm Fade entered, purple eyes alight as he leaned against the table. He studied her with a child's excitement for a new toy.

Midnight jerked towards him, straining against the chains.

Malcolm backed away slightly, but still retained the bright smile. "Well, I'm glad that you caught them. I would have surely have been dead if you hadn't," he said, smiling at the Shadowhunters.

Midnight sensed their barely tangible tolerance for the childish warlock. Maybe that was something that she could exploit. She needed the Shadowhunters divided when she made her escape.

"Well, you could strengthen the magic of the chains right?" Emma said, looking up at the warlock. The warlock shook his head sadly, as if it was the greatest tragedy of all.

"You're not going to get anything out of me, you know," Midnight said, shifting in her seat.

"How did you get into the Institute?" Emma asked.

"How do you think I got into the Institute?" Midnight shot back.

Emma's temper exploded out of her. She stood and with one movement, struck the copycat Julian across the face. Copycat Julian spat blood. He smiled at her, bloody spittle dripping down his chin.

"Do you really think that by hurting me, you'll get information?" Midnight leaned forward, a predatory smile pulling at her lips. "I've been through so much worse," she hissed.

Before Emma could hit her again, Julian grabbed her and pulled her out of the room.

Arthur sighed, then left as well, Malcolm trailing after him, leaving Midnight laughing in her chains, blood stained teeth bared.

…..

"Ty, what are you doing?"

He looked up to see Livia standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed disapprovingly.

"Nothing," he said, continuing his way.

"You're not visiting the shape-changer are you?"

Ty sighed. He couldn't hide anything from his twin. He couldn't understand the draw, the interest in this assassin. When he first met him/her at the beach, it was like he was struck by lightning. He never really felt linked to anyone, only Livia. People mystified him on a daily basis.

But this shape-changer… The same feeling of interest, of obsession almost, that controlled him when studying things like bees, or lizards took him over now. He had to see them.

"Alright, let's go. But I'm not leaving your side," Livia said, following him.

The prison was in the basement. The cold of the underground brushed against his skin as they descended. They both entered the shape-changer's cell, finding them asleep on the damp stone floor. Even though they wore Julian's face, Ty's gut instinct told him that it wasn't his brother. He knelt beside them.

The shape-changer stirred, blue-green eyes opening.

"Mr Smartass," the shape-changer purred in Julian's voice. Behind him, Livia shivered. The voice was Julian's, but the tone was so _wrong_.

The shape-changer's face was swollen and bruised from days of interrogation. Ty hadn't told Livia, but this wasn't the first time he visited the cell. Every night, that nagging interest woke him and dragged him down into the prison.

"If I take off some of your chains, will you Change back to yourself?" he asked.

"Ty-"

Ty held up a hand, staring into his copycat brother's eyes.

Fake Julian smiled. "Sure."

Ty carefully undid the manacles. Julian's features blurred and melted into a dark-skinned girl with high cheekbones, a proud mouth and glittering dark eyes. This was the face that Ty had seen at the beach, at least part of it.

"I said yourself," Ty said again.

The girl stiffened. "This is my face."

"No, its not."

"Well, Tiberius," she said, leaning into him. Ty tried to ignore how his skin burned at her touch as her fingers touched his. Usually he hated people touching him. But not her. "This is the closest thing you'll get to it."

Ty clapped on the manacles again. The girl watched him with suspicious and at the same time, _frightened_ eyes.

Sighing, he walked away with Livia, trying not to look back.

…

The next day, someone different entered Midnight's cell. A tall, brown-haired girl with big, gray eyes. Midnight smiled slightly.

"Well, if it isn't Tessa Gray," she drawled.

Tessa sat across from her, studying her.

"We share the same ability, and yet we couldn't be more different," she remarked.

Midnight wasn't really sure how to respond to that. So she just shrugged indifferently.

"So, you must be a warlock then," Tessa continued, flattened her hands on the table. "How old are you?"

Midnight stilled. The question threw her off so much that she didn't think about what she said. "I don't know."

"What's your name?"

"I don't know," Midnight repeated. The only names she had were made up ones. Lady Midnight was only a title. Her mind spun. How old was she? Was she centuries old? Thousands?

"You don't know your own name?" the young woman questioned.

"No."

"Where are you from?"

"I don't know."

"Who are your parents?"

"I don't know."

The conversation continued much in that fashion. When Tessa got up to leave, Midnight said; "I may not know much about myself, but I do know that I am like you. But different as well."

Tessa nodded thoughtfully, then left the room. It was the fact that someone like her was asking these questions that made her so confused. She had always been so afraid of the fey, of what the King and Queen and Orin would do to her, that she never really thought about her origins or really why she didn't remember anything.

But now, despite being in a prison, she was in the safest place she could possibly be. She could find out who she was.

Then the hopeful thoughts as three adult Shadowhunters entered the room. Time for more interrogation.

….

Tessa sat beside Ty, papers scattered before them. Many were ancient and yellowed, so fragile that Tessa and Ty had to handle them with gloved hands. Ty found it nice to find someone so similar to himself, someone that loved books and research. Being that she was a warlock of the Spiral Labyrinth was even better.

Jem Carstairs searched the shelves, watching his wife and the Blackthorn reading each page. He had received something from the Silent Brothers. It had actually been found in Mortmain's secret files so long ago, sealed in a protective airtight container. He placed it on the table.

Tessa looked at it, gray eyes widening. "The Shape-Changer, the ruin of the Nephilim. That was what Mortmain called me." Ty tried to follow along, but he didn't understand their conversation. He absolutely loathed not knowing something. It grated at him like a deep itch he needed desperately to scratch.

Jem pointed at the container. "But look at the date."

"1469. Born 1453. You think this is the girl?"

"So you're saying that this shape-changer could be 559 years old?" Ty said incredulously.

"If this is her. It doesn't include a name or anything. Or any lineage."

"Well, we know she's like me. I have a feeling that she was the inspiration for Mortmain to-" Tessa said, looking at Jem. The two stared into each other, unspoken words passing between the two.

"Yet somehow her magic is slightly different from yours, and more powerful," Ty said flatly. He took out a blank sheet of paper. "For what we know, she is part demon, maybe part Shadowhunter."

"But what makes her different?" Jem pondered.

Ty stood. Frustration was crawling under his skin. He thought that having these two would help him. It did slightly but he still didn't know. He needed to.

"I know. A blood test. I've developed and tested some indicators that will confirm or deny certain presences of magic."

Without another word, Ty left for his room.

Tessa smiled at his back fondly, Jem sitting beside her. The Blackthorns still didn't know about her connection to them. But she thought it best. They didn't need more to worry about.

It unsettled her that she was not the first of her kind, or the first of Shadowhunter-demon warlock shape-changers. She had a feeling there were more.

And that she would be seeing them soon.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The shape-changer girl shivered in her sleep, her skin raw from demon blood burns. The young Shadowhunters watched, faces set like stone.

"It's a sin for anyone to endure demon blood," Cristina said, frowning.

"She's an assassin. She's out for the Shadowhunters," Emma snapped.

Julian placed a hand on his parabatai's shoulder. "Cristina's right. And I saw the interrogation. She literally cannot tell them anything."

"What?" Emma asked.

"It seemed that she actually tried to give them information about her masters but she started to choke. She coughed up black blood."

"Then whoever she is serving, it may be unwillingly," Livia concluded.

Emma set her face, staring into the one-way mirror. "I still don't believe it."

Ty walked in, jolting when he saw his family also there. His arms were piled with books, vials, needles, flasks.

Not saying anything, he went into the cell. Cristina smiled a little. "Let's go."

"But-" Emma protested.

"Listen to Tina. We should go to bed," Julian said.

Emma sighed but obliged. The three of them left, leaving Livia and Drusilla by themselves, watching as their brother knelt beside the girl.

Livia felt a twinge in her chest. Ty had never really been affectionate, only with her. It was almost jealousy that she was no longer the only person he deeply cared for. At the same time, she was happy for him. It wasn't like he didn't love the rest of his family. He just didn't feel as attached to them as he did to Livia or to this girl.

"Come on, Dru, we should go to," she said, putting a hand on the smaller girl's shoulder. They both turned away and went back to their rooms.

….

Midnight woke up to find Ty Blackthorn kneeling beside her, a book open in his lap.

"Tiberius, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice rough.

That seemed to stir something in him. "Curiosity, honestly."

She pushed herself up, wincing as her skin ached with renewed vigor. The demon blood they used luckily was diluted but it still burned like hell. When she thought the pain was getting to be too much, she attempted to tell the Shadowhunters that the fey were her masters. But then something hot choked her, black blood coating her throat and tongue. She could still taste it.

"You're always honest," she said, pushing back her lank hair. "I like that about you."

"Your very appearance is a lie," he blurted out. "Everything about you is dishonest. And yet,-" Ty's words were choked off. He shook his head. "I found something interesting. It seems there is documentation about you. A very old file."

"And?" Midnight asked, her voice dead. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know or not. She still felt the sting of his words, like barbs in her heart.

"I know when you were born, but not of your lineage. Or your name."

"If I knew my name, I would tell you." Midnight pulled up short. _Where did that come from? _

If it surprised him, he didn't react. "I can find out what you are, if you want," he continued.

"When was I born?" she asked quietly. Her gut told her that it was long ago.

"In 1453. The document was dated 1469, so you were sixteen at the time."

The shape-changer let out a breath. Ty could sense the rising tension off her.

Ty slid over, sitting beside her. He reached for a book. "Would you like to read something?"

The girl grabbed a book but didn't open it. "So what was this about a test of my lineage?"

Ty cleared his throat. "It would require your blood."

"Well, if you're going to do this, I want to be present for the testing."

"You would only get in my way. Plus, you're not allowed to leave. You're extremely dangerous."

"Aw, Tiberius, you flatter me," Midnight said, placing a hand on his arm. Lightning traveled along her nerves, crackling down her spine. She dropped her hand.

She tried to cross her arms. The chains rattled and tangled. "If I can't be there, I will not give you my blood."

"I could just take it by force," he commented.

"Yes, but the magic wouldn't be in my blood. It would just be normal, like a human's," Midnight said, staring him right in the eyes. She was lying through her teeth but she didn't want him to take her blood without her permission. She wanted to know her heritage too.

Ty considered her, eyes flicking over her face. "Fine, I'll arrange something. But don't get in my way."

Midnight smiled in victory. Maybe this would be her excuse to get away with the Dark Artifices.

…

"I really don't see how this is necessary," Midnight complained, as Malcolm Fade draped yet another layer of chains and wards on her.

"Yes, it is," the Blackthorns, Emma and Malcolm chimed together.

She rolled her eyes. "How am I supposed to move? You'll have to carry me around."

"Or Ty could just lead you around with your leash," Emma said, with a vicious smile.

Midnight's anger rose like a tidal wave. Her control slipped completely, the wave of her anger sending her tumbling in its wake.

Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a ferocious snarl. "Do NOT speak to me like that, Carstairs. Or you will deeply regret it."

"Oh, what are you going to do? That's right, nothing. You're all chained up."

"You know, you're awfully stupid. Must be because you're a blonde," Midnight spat.

Emma's gold-brown eyes burned like wildfires. She grabbed a broadsword off the wall and came at Midnight with it. Julian grabbed her, but not before the hilt bopped Midnight soundly on the head.

"Oh, did I just drop that broadsword on your head? Oh sorry, must be because I'm BLONDE!" Emma screeched at her.

"Oh, that's so hilarious!"

Magic bound her in place. Malcolm.

"You're a naughty thing!" he wagged a long finger in front of her face. She just gave him a look.

"You should at least try to behave yourself," Ty said, arms crossed over his skinny chest.

"And where's the fun in that, Tiberius?" she sighed, trying to run a hand through her lank greasy hair. All she managed was pulling out some strands with her chains.

"It's Ty," he grumbled, his hand on one of her elbows, Malcolm at her other side. They lifted her up the stairs. She couldn't really walk, with all the chains binding her down. How was she going to get out of this?

They plopped her in a hard chair, Malcolm binding manacles attached to her many chains to the legs of the chair. He patted her on the head, as he checked that they were all secure.

"Be good," he told her, as if he was a parent, and she was his child.

Midnight gave him a flat stare.

Malcolm left the two of them alone in Ty's room. He eyed the girl, covered up to the neck with gold chain. Sensing the heaviness in the air, the shape-changer smirked.

"So it's just you and me, Tiberius. How wonderfully cozy," she purred.

"Oh, save it," he turned away from her, so she wouldn't see the blush spreading along his cheeks.

Behind him, she chuckled softly.

Steeling himself, Ty pulled out the vials and droppers, the petrie dishes, microscope and test tubes full of shimmering liquid. He found the needle and wipes and turned to the shape-changer. She was expressionless when he knelt beside her, wiping the inside of her elbow with the alcohol-coated wipe, the smell of it clearing his nose. Finding the vein pushing out, he gently inserted the needle, dark liquid rushing into the clear body of it. He withdrew the needle, bringing it closer to his face. It looked like ordinary blood. Nothing wonderful or mind-blowingly fascinating by first glance.

He handled the needle with gentle gloved hands. From her chair, Midnight watched, utterly fascinated as he divided her blood into several different petrie dishes. She shivered, her chains clinking as she watched his gray sparking eyes grow distant yet intense in interest.

The next few days went along in the same fashion. As time passed, the heaviness of her chains lessened, as Ty began to trust her. She had given no reason not to. She never really tried to harm him.

According to Ty, the indicators wouldn't reveal anything until the reaction was complete, when it finally reached equilibrium.

Both of them leaned over the petrie dishes excitedly, shoulders pressing against each other. They watched as one of the blood samples turned into a sparkling gold precipitate, while another turned into a tar-like black.

"That confirmed the presence of angelic blood," he said, pointing to the gold liquid. He quickly jotted something down on his notepad.

"Presence of demon blood confirmed," he murmured, pencil making scratching sounds against the paper.

"But that could mean anything. That could mean I'm fey," Midnight murmured to him, looking at him through lowered lashes.

"I'm not stupid. That's why I have these," Ty said, gesturing to the remaining petrie dishes.

She rested her chin against her palm. She considered him through lidded eyes, a smile tugging at her lips.

"What?"

She laughed breathily. "I knew you would respond to that. Don't worry, I knew somehow you would determine exactly what my nature is."

Ty narrowed his eyes at her, but couldn't help the smile forming on his face. He didn't ask the question hovering on his lips; _how would you know?_ Somehow, the shape-changer girl knew him.

He turned to her, pausing for a second. "You know, I still don't know your name."

The girl sobered. "That makes two of us. I don't remember anything of my past."

"Anything?"

"I sometimes get these feelings of déjà vu, but otherwise nothing."

"Then what do I call you?"

Midnight paused. She stared into Ty's sharp gray eyes, almost wolfish as they stared her down.

"Midnight," she said finally. "Lady Midnight."

**I know its been a while but here's another chapter! And there will be a prequel to this, about Lady Midnight's past. Hope you enjoy it and please give feedback! :)**


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

By the end of their experiments, Ty finally reached a conclusion. The shape-changer "Lady Midnight" was part Shadowhunter, part demon and part fey. He had a hypothesis that the fey blood acted as an amplifier for her magic. Since fey were part demon and part angel, it would strengthen both presences of it. This was also the reason why she didn't need an object of the person she was going to Change into, like Tessa Gray. Tessa seemed to agree with him.

But there were still a couple questions that nagged at Ty. _How did she Change? How could she truly become another person? Who were her masters? Why did she not remember anything? _

"Hey, Tiberius. Are you not going to pay attention?"

Ty turned, looking over at Midnight. She stood, a hand on her hip, a dagger in her other hand.

"This is so dull," he complained.

She quickly walked up to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. Ty tried to ignore the lure of the predatory way she walked, the temptation to pull her close washing over him. The dagger perched between her fingers, the blade lightly grazing the back of his neck. A shiver ran down his spine.

"Even Sherlock Holmes needs to know how to defend himself," she said, looking up into his steely eyes. A stray curl wandered into his eyes. Smiling a little, she brushed it away. Ty jolted, like her touch was electric. She stifled her own response, the way it seemed like flames were licking at her belly.

"What are you doing?" an outraged voice burst into the quietness of the training room.

Midnight took a step back from Ty. She flipped the dagger casually in her hand. Shaking stray hairs from her face, she stared down the speaker. Livia, Ty's twin. Her blue-green eyes glowed with anger, her cupids-bow lips curled in a snarl.

"Trying to help your twin with his training," she said. She smirked a little, knowing it would grate on Livia's nerves. Midnight let the innuendo settle on her, smirking further when Livia's face cleared in realization.

"You-" Livia's words were choked off with anger. She reached for a sword, settling into a stance. Livia charged.

Malcolm's spells made her freeze. She couldn't hurt any of the Shadowhunters, thanks to the gold cuffs encircling her wrists, arms, legs, ankles and neck. When Ty began to trust her, he persuaded Malcolm to alter her chains. It was nice to not have the weight of the chains bearing down on her, but it didn't mean that they were gone. They were there, invisible.

Sighing, she side-stepped Livia's blow. When she swung again, Midnight squatted down, letting the blade pass over her head. Another swing. She bent backwards, the silver of the blade flashing in her eyes as it swiped empty air.

Ty watched with fascination. The way that Midnight moved was completely surreal, as if Livia was in slow-motion and Midnight in high speed. He had never seen anyone move that fast, even Jace Herondale.

When Emma and Julian heard the familiar sound of metal cutting air, they immediately rushed for the training room. They jolted to a stop when they saw where the sounds were coming from. Livia was swinging and stabbing, the shape-changer easily dancing out of the way of each blow. A dagger dangled in her fingers.

Julian crossed his arms over his chest. "She's not even really fighting back, and she's amazing," he commented.

Emma scowled. "She's not that good."

As if hearing her words, the shape-changer spun, shooting a leg out. Livia's blade clanged against the metal of her ankle cuff. Out of surprise, Ty's twin paused. Taking this as an opportunity, the shape-changer put down her leg, and kicked the blade out of Livia's hand with her other. It clattered on the floor.

"You sure about that?" Julian asked, smiling a little. He shouldered past her into the training room.

Emma grumbled to herself, grudgingly following her parabatai. Just as Livia was about to make another go, she went to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. With a scowl, the Blackthorn girl threw her hand off and stormed out. Ty left after her. With a concerned look on his face, Julian followed after, leaving Emma and the shape-changer alone.

_Great, now what?_ Emma thought to herself. She studied the way that the other girl handled the dagger, with a lazy ease that made a green fire of jealousy burn hotly inside her. Emma knew she was good, and yet she couldn't replicate that look of complete ease with something so deadly. Even Jace Herondale couldn't do that _that_ convincingly.

The girl flipped the dagger, offering the hilt to Emma. She took it, not caring if the blade cut the girl.

"You're not going to hit me in the head with a broadsword again, are you?" the girl asked, scratching at one of her cuffs on her arms. Emma could see the skin was pink with rawness. She winced. That must not be comfortable. She stopped herself. Why was she feeling sympathy for an assassin out for Shadowhunters? One that was killing people that could potentially know about her parents' death?

"Not unless you give me a reason to," she said lightly.

The other girl chuckled, then stilled. "Are you going to ask me what you're burning up inside about? Or are you just going to stand there?" she asked quietly.

Emma jerked. Was she that obvious?

"How are you so good at combat?" she asked. "Was it all those years of practice?"

The shape-changer sighed, plopping down on the ground. Emma hesitantly did the same.

"I don't know. Tiberius has told me that apparently I'm 559 years old, but I- I don't remember anything until a couple of years ago."

Something flickered in Emma's gold-brown eyes. "Till what year?"

"I didn't keep track of time. I trained with my masters for those years."

If this girl remembered only to 2007, then maybe, just maybe they could find out who was behind this.

"You don't have any idea about how trained you before? Like hundreds of years ago?"

Midnight stared into her eyes, wondering why that particular shade seemed so familiar to her. "If I remember, I'll tell you. Now, another thing."

"What?"

"Did you want me to train you?"

That took Emma by surprise. "Why would I want you to train me? You're an assassin."

The shape-changer smiled. "I know that you hate that I'm better than you. It burns inside you like a wildfire, lighting your eyes that bright gold. So? Do you want to be the best or not? Not even Jace Herondale would be able to beat me. If you learned from me, he wouldn't be able to beat you either."

That sounded so dangerously tempting. But could she? What would the others think if she was training with this untrustworthy, dangerous, lethal, cunning, assassin?

But, she had trained so much to be the best. And if someone was volunteering to help her get there, well then…

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

Emma grumbled. "Yes, I want you to train me."

The shape-changer smiled brightly. "Call me Midnight. You don't have to trust me, but you can trust Tiberius, and Malcolm with his spells," she said, gesturing towards the gold cuffs covering her arms and legs. There was even one around her neck.

"And the fact that you can't leave the Institute without a Shadowhunter is a good thing. Or the fact that you will start having an epileptic fit if you try to escape or hurt one of us."

Midnight smiled sheepishly. How many times had she tried to escape? As soon as Tiberius let her perform the experiments with him.

"Alright. Let's start."


End file.
